Page 8 of Forged in Cursed Flames (Crown and Crest 2)

“Can you sense magic?” I demand once the door is closed and I’m certain we won’t be overheard.

“Sense magic?” He crosses his arms as if he’s highly uncomfortable.

Frustrated, I pace the opulently furnished entertaining area. “Can you see it? Feel it, maybe? I can sense yours, to a point, but it’s just a vague sensation. I don’t think humans are perceptive enough.”

He frowns. “I suppose I can, yes.”

“What about human magic? Can you sense that?”

The handsome elf’s face goes hard. “Humans don’t possess magic.”

“I know that. I’m talking about—”

“Necromancy.”

Feeling oddly chastised, I nod. Perhaps it’s against Woodmore etiquette to drag an unattached man into your private quarters and discuss forbidden and taboo subjects such as blood magic.

That might be against human etiquette, too, now that I think about it—but I don’t have time to worry about manners right now.

I extend my arms to my sides. “Do you sense any on me?”

Pranmore’s eyebrows fly up. Aghast, he asks, “Should I?”

“No! I just need you to confirm it.”

“I don’t sense any magic around you at all.”

With a grateful sigh, I step forward. “Good. We need to find Henrik, so you can tell him.”

“What’s going on?” Pranmore demands as I hurry past him. “Why would you ask that?”

“I’ll explain later.”

I practically drag him through the halls, heading for the king’s study yet again.

“Is Henrik still in there?” I ask the door guard, breathless from the pace.

Looking as if he’s questioning my sanity, the man shakes his head. “He left, my lady.”

“Where did he go?” I decide it’s a good sign they don’t arrest me on sight. Henrik must not have told King Algernon about the letter yet.

“I don’t know,” the guard says. “If you’ll remember, I did offer to tell him you were looking for—”

“Yes, I know,” I say impatiently, dragging Pranmore with me once more. “Never mind.”

We finally find Henrik in the melee practice yard, solemnly speaking with several soldiers.

“There he is.” I shove Pranmore forward. “Go get him.”

The elf flashes me a look. “Why don’t you ‘go get him?’”

“It’s…complicated,” I say. “There isn’t an open line of communication between us right now.”

“I’ve noticed.” Pranmore bestows me with a knowing look. “This is why it’s considered wise to keep romantic and professional relationshipsseparate.”

“Go,” I hiss, giving him another strong nudge.

Pranmore is more astute than I realized. How much did he pick up on while we were wandering the Dorian Mountains? Not that any of that matters right now.

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